To-day we had the feast—and it _was_ a feast. Dirty little ragamuffins!
Of course Mumsie was in attendance early. It was all one wild scramble,
food, dirty imps, steam and struggle. I found it hard work and
appreciated the reason why the feast was held so early, five days before
Christmas. It was that we might get rest in time for our own
festivities. I was disappointed that no stylish people came to help.
Indeed, Mrs. Lien did turn up, also several other smart ladies, but they
merely grinned, tossed their heads, and went away. Virtue is very
dull—there is no question of that.
I have made up my mind about one thing. I’m going to get into society.
It’s the spirit of the age. So why not? I’ll be in the fashion so soon,
and far, as I can. I’m sure that Uncle’s ideas are old-fashioned. Of
course I love Uncle and all that, but I know he’s wrong. I’ve used my
eyes. I’m sure of it. Times change, fashions change, customs change,
don’t they? And, people change, nations change, everything changes. The
young are as likely to be right as the old, for _they_ can’t be rid of
their old opinions. How nice it must be to go every place and to
everything, and to have one’s name always figuring prominently in the
notices—like Georgie Cochrane, and Mabel Lien, and Doris Mount.
I know now why I am writing this diary! It’s partly practice, that some
day I may write something good and make a name for myself. It is also to
record my passing impressions of the society doings I _am_ going to
enjoy. For after I get back home again to the country, I’ll have plenty
of time and it will be dull if I don’t employ myself. To-day in town I
heard one girl say to a friend: “Good-bye—good luck. Be good and you’ll
be happy—but you’ll have a mighty slow time.” Now I wonder!
And I have a right to a place in society. My grandfather was an army
officer. So even Uncle could not call me a “social climber.” I only wish
to see real life and get some enjoyment. The thing to do is to make
friends among those who have aspirations and aims similar to mine—true
friends, good friends. I wonder if Grandfather had any more joy in being
honourable and upright than “old man” Lien, who lent to and ruined
unfortunate farmers, and other incapable persons. Of course, old Lien
had no friends outside his own class, but then Grandfather’s friends
borrowed money from him and never returned it,—and drank his port wine.
So I wonder which got the greater joy from life.
No doubt Grandfather would have despised old Lien, while Lien would have
pitied Grandfather. There is no doubt that Mabel Lien has had a better
time than I. And I can quite conceive that old Lien’s joy in his wide,
rich lands was greater than Grandfather’s could be in being
comparatively poor, however respectable. Yes, Uncle doesn’t know
everything, and I’m not such a little girl as he thinks.